


Dangerous Man

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, Episode Related: outofthepast, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has a problem facing personal fears after "Out of the Past"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Man

**Author's Note:**

> This has spoilers for "Out of the Past", but really it's just an excuse to mess with Jim's beautiful head.

## Dangerous Man

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Author's disclaimer: These guys aren't mine, but they might as well be considering they live in my head most of the time.

* * *

Dangerous Man  
by Grey 

"Come on, Jim. Let me do it, man." 

"Leave me alone, Sandburg. I can do this by myself." The detective continued to struggle at wrapping this right hand in the new dressing. For some reason the stubborn cloth refused to stay put. "Damn." 

"I told you, man. You're definitely left-brained." 

Jim stopped and dropped his hand to his lap, the frustration wrinkling his features in an irritated twist. "Are you trying to say only one side of my brain works, Sandburg?" 

Blair carefully eased down on the armrest beside his partner, both hands raised in surrender. "No, man, I'm just saying that you're like totally right-handed and trying to bandage with the left isn't getting you anywhere fast." 

Frowning, Jim raised his right hand, took in the raggedy job he'd just done and nodded. "Okay. I guess you may have a point this time." Grudgingly he added, "Thanks." He held his hand out looking way too much like a wounded lion needing a thorn removed from his oversized paw. 

Blair grinned as he supported the back of Jim's hand with his own while he removed the gauzy strips, putting them on the towel already on the coffee table. The heated touch of his skin to skin contact pushed up the heat index of the room while Jim wiped away the tiny beads of sweat forming at his hairline. He tried not to think about what he'd love Blair to touch and hold as carefully as he handled his hand. 

"It's healing pretty good here, man. Did the doctor down at the station say if he thought it would scar or not?" Blair's soft voice so close to his face tickled his inner ear, the breathy vibrations of it tingling and soothing at the same time. "Jim?" 

The use of his name startled him. "Yeah?" 

"I asked if the doctor thought this would scar." 

"He didn't say, but I don't think it will. It's not that bad, not really." He averted his eyes as Blair continued surrounding his weeping wound and bruises all across the battered knuckles. Thanks to his guide, the dials worked. No pain swelled up as he fastened the bandage tighter and took one last quick exam of his dressing, his hold lingering a little longer than necessary. Jim swallowed hard and pretended not to notice as his guide massaged the inside of his wrist before reaching up to lightly run his fingers across his damaged forehead. 

"That's good. What about on your head, man? That scab looks pretty nasty." 

When he raised his own hand to the edge of his temple, Blair pulled away. The rough healing flesh resisted and nudged upward against his sliding fingertips, the usual smoothness missing. "It's not that bad either." Glancing at the butterfly bandage on Blair, he nodded. "Yours should be okay in a few weeks, too. Swelling's almost gone." 

"Yeah, no problem. My mom always said I have a hard head." 

"I hear that." 

"Funny, man. Don't joke. Having a tough skull's been a blessing for both of us lately." Blair stood up and went to the sink, taking the towel and dressings with him. He threw away the soiled things, washed his hands, and then went into the bathroom to store the supplies. 

The whole time he moved through the apartment, Jim's sentinel senses tracked him. He watched the sway of hips, the rounded ass pushing hard against the blue jeans, the tight seam running up the middle crease. The vital signs, the breathing, heart beat, all of it worked as signals for his guide's very presence. Air shimmered around him, the layers closest to his body more active, the mirage effect on a long hot highway in the desert. The strong salty aroma of him after working all day, his own smell a mix of musk and almost almond, marked him as his partner. Jim could pick him out in a crowd by the way the young man's scent actually scraped and snagged the back of his throat. Swallowing hard, the sentinel slumped hard into the cushions, his left hand swiping the strong ache of forbidden desire from his face. He couldn't let himself keep thinking about it, couldn't let Blair find out. No way. 

"Jim?" Opening his eyes, he found Blair standing at the end of the sofa staring down, the concerned dark blue focused in his direction. "You okay, man? You've been acting a little strange all day." 

"I'm fine, Chief. Just tired." 

"Yeah, well, I guess you have a right after this whole deal with Angie Ferris and all. That was pretty intense." As he sat down on the sofa beside him, Blair's muscular thighs stretched out the denim even more. Reflexively Jim scooted away to the other end, his whole body on alert, his own thighs twitching in reaction. The dark curls tilted and bounced slightly, the eyes still intent. "Jim, is something wrong? You've been acting weird ever since we got home. Even at the station you've been avoiding me, man." 

"I'm not avoiding you, Chief. I just like a little space, that's all." 

"I understand that. In our culture it's an arm's length for most males, but Jim, you're not most males. We're always in each other spaces and you've never acted like this before." 

Shifting uncomfortably, Jim rubbed his lips, the words seriously stubborn. "You're off base here, Chief. There's nothing wrong. I just don't need you sitting on my fucking lap, okay?" 

"What?" The shock tripped the word before it cleared the young man's mouth. God, his gut fisted seeing the hurt in those eyes. 

"I'm sorry, Chief. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I just meant that an arm's length is not such a huge distance, so maybe we should just go with the cultural pattern or something." 

"Cultural pattern? Jim listen to yourself, man. What's up with you?" Blair leaned forward, his wild hair falling forward, his hand fighting to push it back. "You're the one who's always standing right there with the hand on the shoulder, talking right into my ear and shit. Now, you're saying you think I stand and sit too close for comfort?" 

"I didn't say you made me uncomfortable." 

"No? That's what I heard. That's what I'm seeing right now. Something's not right and I need to know what it is. It started at Angie's. Now, talk to me, man." 

Jim stood up slowly, the dials working to control the pain sending tiny spasms up through his stomach and back. Holding his wounded left arm with the bandaged right hand, he stood at the window. His tongue ran along the inside of his lower lip, the raw, jagged edges of the slippery flesh still rough. "It's not you, Chief." 

"I know that, Jim, but I need to know what's bothering you." 

Turning slightly, the detective took in the extreme focus directed at him by his partner. No way could he risk the truth, so he decided on diversion. "Angie Ferris is a beautiful woman." 

Rocked backward, Blair settled in against the cushion, his arms crossed while he waited. "Yeah, she is. Talented, too." 

"She said something before she left that got me thinking." 

"Yeah? What'd she say?" 

"Well, she hinted that she'd like to see me again. When I asked if there were anymore secrets I needed to know, she said I already knew the biggest one." 

"Which is?" 

"That she's a sucker for dangerous men." 

Blair shook his head, the confusion clouding his features. "Jim, I don't get it. What's that supposed to mean?" 

"She thinks I'm dangerous, Chief. I've never really thought about that before. I suppose to some people I come off that way. I don't mean to. I mean, I was trying to protect her from that psycho Weston, and then she says something like that. It kind of threw me, that's all." 

Nodding to himself, Blair leaned forward again, this time his eyes staring off into the distance as he processed the conversation before he spoke. "Okay, I guess I can see how she'd think you were dangerous since you're sort of connected to violence in her mind, but I still don't get why that would bother you, man. And how does that translate into avoiding me?" This time his eyes locked with Jim's before the older man could turn away. The flash of bewilderment behind the blueness flexed like a gut punch. 

"I'm not sure either, Chief. I'm just wandering around here myself trying to figure it out. I watched you with Pam and it sort of bothered me that while I was taking care of the mother, you were taking care of the kid a hell of a lot better than I was or ever could. When it came right down to it, you were the one who helped stop Weston more than I did, yet I'm the one who gets the credit, not you." 

"You're seriously losing me here, Jim." 

"You're the dangerous man, Chief. Not me." 

For the first time since they'd been talking, Blair smiled. "You're kidding, right? Me, dangerous? Did that bop on the head do more damage than we thought or what?" 

"I'm not kidding, Blair. You did a great job taking care of Pam and her mom. I just happened to get lucky. I mean, I fucked this whole thing up from the beginning. Weston almost whipped my ass good. If you hadn't distracted him when you did, we'd all be dead. Plus, this thing with the pain dials. You don't have any idea how that helps me deal with all this." 

"I'm glad, man, but I don't understand why that means you want me to keep my distance, why you suddenly start acting like I'm contagious or something." 

Biting his already swollen lip, Jim shook his head. "I'm not explaining this worth shit, Blair. I'm sorry." 

"About what?" 

"About not being able to tell you what I need to. I'm not very good with words. This whole conversation makes that pretty fucking obvious, don't you think?" 

Blair rubbed both palms hard against his thighs, the push of flesh against the taut fabric, a brushing pattern coiling at Jim's mid-section. He coughed to distract himself, to keep from going to the couch to grab up his guide's hands to bring them to his own crotch. 

Instead he forced himself to clear his throat and speak slowly. "I'm going to go to bed, Chief. We'll talk more later. Right now I'm just too tired to think straight, okay?" 

"Okay, I guess, Jim, but I have to tell you that I'm more confused now than I was before." 

"I know, Chief. Sorry." 

"Don't worry, man. Maybe you're just adjusting to using the dial deal. Maybe when you use them, it makes you depressed or increases your other defenses or something. I don't know, but I'll work on it. We'll figure this thing out, man. Honest." 

"I trust you, Chief. See you in the morning." 

"Sure thing, Jim. Later, man. Try not to worry. I'll figure this whole thing out somehow." 

As Jim climbed the stairs up to his bed, his hearing picked up on the panicky beating of his partner's heart, the increased breathing as Blair sat back down and grabbed up a pencil and pad to work on the formula that might solve the mystery. He didn't have the heart to tell him what would really solve the problem, couldn't tell him that his body in Jim's bed and arms would be the only solution, one that simply couldn't be. The older man dropped to the edge of the mattress, closed his eyes and visualized the dangerous man of his dreams. God, he was seriously fucked here. 

* * *

"Sir, I've got those reports you wanted." Jim stepped into the office, his wrapped hand held unconsciously up to his sore ribs. 

The captain took out his cigar and motioned for his detective to enter. "Sit down, Jim. I need to go over some things." Simon moved a stack papers on his desk and took the offered folders from Jim before the younger man sat down at the nearby table with his own set. In the background, very low, but familiar voice sang a jazzy song about hazardous lovers. 

"Is that the tape Ferris gave Sandburg?" 

Simon looked up and smiled. "Yeah, great, huh? The kid made me a copy. I think it's better than any of her previous stuff. The girl's got quite at thing going on." 

"Yeah, she does. That was nice of Blair to do that." 

"Yeah, it was." Simon glanced up, his smile gone. "Jim, are you okay?" 

"Sure, I'm fine. Why?" He flipped through the folder ignoring the concerned stares of his friend. 

"You just seem a little, I don't know, down or something. Of course, it could be all those nasty gashes. Weston whipped on your ass pretty good. I read the report. You got damn lucky there was a storm that night. Lightning definitely played in your favor against that psycho." 

"I know." Avoiding the visual probes, Jim concentrated to close off the images of that night, the cold rain, deafening thunder, the eerie flashes blasting away and muting his senses. The battery of his attacker's punches awakened in his mind briefly before he shut them back down. 

"So, what's the problem?" 

"No problem. What did you want to see me about, sir?" 

"Jim, don't play games with me now. Tell me what's buggin' you. I know it's something. I've been around you too long not to recognize the signs. You shut yourself off when something's really bothering you." 

Taking a deep breath, Jim steeled himself to confess, his own tongue awkward. "You're right. It was luck, just dumb luck. If it hadn't been for that and Blair, Angie and her daughter could be dead right now. I screwed this whole thing up. I just never expected the guy to show up and use the daughter like that. I mean, my god, Simon, I let the girl take the bullets out of my gun while I was sleeping for godsakes. What the hell kind of detective does that make me? I'm telling you, I almost blew this thing." 

"Just calm down, Jim. You're being way too hard on yourself. It just makes you human, that's all. Besides, you didn't blow it. Plus, you were hurt. You'd been beaten up and shot. If anyone's to blame on this, it probably should be me." 

"What? Come on, Simon. Don't patronize me." 

"No, seriously, I should've sent some guards out to the house of something. Weston'd already killed the guard and attacked you. Once we found out about the daughter writing him in prison, I should've done more." 

"Well, lucky for both of us, Blair saved all our asses." 

Simon picked up his cigar, lit it again, and puffed really hard several times before he spoke. "Okay, I've read the report, and I know he distracted Weston so you and Angie could get out of the line of fire, but what else?" 

"It's just that, Simon. Don't you see? I was totally defenseless and he had that gun right on us. Blair'd been knocked out cold, but as soon as he woke up, he didn't even hesitate to risk his life again. He could've been killed." 

"You all could've." 

"True. I'm just thinking that maybe this wasn't exactly one of my best performances as a cop, that's all." 

"Right, so I guess this means, you don't want to take the credit for getting Weston off the streets?" 

"The man's dead, sir. I didn't kill him. Nature did." 

"And good riddance if you ask me." Pausing again, Simon flicked off the ash. He turned around and poured himself some coffee. "You want some?" 

"No, sir. Are we finished here?" Jim stood just as Simon raised his hand. 

"Not yet, Jim. Sit down." 

"Simon, I've got a lot of files to get through." He raised his hand to pinch the twinges stabbing like needles right at the bridge of his nose. Thinking about Blair clouded his vision, made him want to see his guide sitting on the floor again stuffing his face with a cookie, his eyes bright as he talked of traveling on the Amazon to Angie. His very heart trembled at the thought of his guide leaving to go exploring the world without him. 

"Sit down, Jim, before you fall down. You don't look so good." 

"It's just a headache." Reluctantly he followed orders, wishing he could run to the bullpen, hide among the files and droning distraction of activities. 

"Yeah, maybe but I've got a feeling there's something else going on here. Either you know what it is already and you're just keeping it to yourself, or you're not sure and trying not to think about it." 

"I don't know what you're taking about, Simon." 

"Don't you?" 

"No, I don't. Look, I've got a lot of work to do here." 

"Jim, I'm your boss, I know exactly how much work you've got to do. Taking just a quick break with me isn't going to wreck the wheels of justice for godsakes. Now just settle down." Simon walked around his desk and placed a cup of coffee in front of his friend while he sat down across from him. "All right, now tell me what's really bothering you, and no more bull shit, detective." 

"You're way out of line here, Simon. I'm just a little pissed at myself for the whole mess with Ferris, that's all." 

"And?" 

"And nothing." 

"What about Sandburg?" Simon dropped the question almost casually as he drank the coffee, his dark eyes watching him over the thick edge of the blue cup. 

Deliberately obtuse, Jim refused to meet those eyes. "What about him?" 

"Jesus, Jim, why do I suddenly feel like a dentist pulling teeth? You've been acting different around him ever since this thing with Ferris finished up. You're all skittish, downright jumpy. What's going on?" 

A slight surge of anger rushed though his arms, his dials spinning upward as the pain increased. "He's been complaining to you about it?" 

"Of course not. He hasn't said a word." Simon leaned forward, putting his cup aside, shoving his face close to Jim's. "What would he have to complain about, man? Listen to me, detective, for all intents and purposes this kid is your partner. For the last few days you won't go near him, go out of your way in fact to step away. Now, are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to take you off duty until you decide you can trust me?" 

The last statement brought Jim up out of his chair, the clear shock breaking his voice into a hoarse string of tight words. "What the hell do you want me to say, Simon? You want me to tell you something I can't even admit to myself? You've got no idea what you're asking." 

Sinking back away, Simon's dark face dramatically softened. "Shit, Jim. It's worse than I thought." 

Wrapping his arms around his chest, the gunshot wound throbbed out of control, the tremors racing through the reawakened nerves. "Why? What did you think?" 

"I thought you two just had a fight or something or you were feeling guilty about putting him at risk again, but it's a hell of a lot worse than that, right? I swear, I never would've guess this. No wonder you're depressed." 

"Shut up, Simon." 

"I'm your captain and your friend, Jim. Don't tell me to shut up when you know I'm telling the truth." 

Shaking, his whole body one firing nerve cell, he leaned his head against the cool condensation on the window glass. With no dial in sight, he wanted to explode, the united pain converging like a frantic, run amok circus all over his body. Swallowing hard, wetting his tender lower lip, he worked hard at keeping his voice even. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir." 

"Jesus, Jim, just face it. You're in love with Sandburg. No wonder you're acting crazy." 

"You're wrong, Captain." 

"Yeah, well, men have gone to prison with less evidence, so you'd better just deal with it, Jim." 

He straightened up, every muscle too tight, his jaws grinding his teeth into bitter dust. Very carefully he formed his words. "I'm trying, Simon, but you aren't making this easy." 

"Easy? Being in love with your partner would be a bitch, Jim, even if that partner were a woman. Being in love with Sandburg, well, you always did like taking those extra chances, stepping into the most dangerous cases. Now, you've got it up close and personal, my friend." 

"You think I chose this? Why the hell would I do that?" 

"I didn't say you did. None of us really gets to choose who we love. The thing is, you think you're dealing with it by putting it off and denying it. But, hell, if I can see it, it's not going to take long for the kid to figure it out. He's not a cop, but he's not stupid." 

"No, he's not." Jim sat back down, his shoulders slumped, the energy pumping to control the rush of pain surging through his body. "What should I do, Simon? I've never had to deal with anything like this." 

"Ambush, huh?" 

"Yeah, big time." 

"Vice never prepared you?" 

Jim glanced up meeting the dark concerned eyes, the humor still alive and sparkling. "Funny, Simon. What the hell am I supposed to do?" 

"Talk to your partner, Jim. He might surprise you. Lord knows, he surprises me every day just by putting up with you." 

"Thanks, sir. I appreciate the support." The sarcasm brought Simon forward in his seat. 

A serious voice brought Jim's head up to meet his captain's eyes one more time. "You better, Jim. Sentinel or detective, this is going to totally change your life. I'll cover your ass as well as Sandburg's anyway I can, but you've got to know going in, it's not going to be easy. Don't shut me out or I can't do a damn thing. Got that, detective?" 

"Got it, Captain." 

"Good. Now go find Sandburg and straighten this mess out." Just as Jim stood up, the captain added, "Oh, and tell the kid hello from the older generation, will ya?" 

* * *

Dread draped his muscles with weary film, the whole list of possible reactions from his friend playing like bad movies in his head. He knew what could happen if people found out about him wanting to be with a man, him wanting to fuck and be fucked by his partner. One part of his brain shouted to go for it, to wallow in the sensual glory of being in love. The other part begged him to hide in a dark corner and eat his gun. 

Walking into the quiet loft, he dropped the keys, took off his jacket and leaned against the counter exhausted. He hadn't slept in days, the dreams, both erotic and violent, waking him, sweat-drenched and aching. Reaching into the refrigerator, he pulled out a beer. The cap came off and he drained the near freezing liquid, the cold burn numbing his throat. His forehead tightened as the mix of alcohol and cool exploded its effect, a burst of white lights and ice tapping from inside his bony skull, caged and pulsing. 

Tossing the bottle aside, he stripped off his shirt and headed for the shower. He unzipped and relieved himself. After getting naked, he turned on the hot water while he unwrapped the bandage on his hand. Pulling back the curtain, he slid under the steaming water, the hot rush an immediate swarm all over his body. Soaping up, he lathered first his face and chest, before rinsing. Then he smoothed the slick richness down his belly, between his legs, stroking his growing cock. Touching himself in long even motions, he fisted the length, imagining himself contained within the heat of his guide's tight body. He'd dreamed of thrusting forward, of grinding there so many times. Each push brought on a tension winding and coiling within his belly, gripping his ass cheeks with full muscular clenches. Eyes squeezed shut, both hands busy, he worked to roll the balls and bring himself off. Over and over he pistoned, humping under the heated water growing colder. He got so far and no further. 

"Shit." His cock lazy in his hand withered as he stopped moving, the soap all gone, the desire empty and no longer driving. 

He turned off the water, grabbed a towel, dried off. Frustrated, he rubbed his hair and discovered blood on the wet cloth. Glancing in the mirror, the scabs flaked away from his forehead. Shaking his head, he blotted the oozing a few more times and got another towel to wrap around him. 

Outside he stopped dead center in the hallway. "Chief? What are doing home?" 

"Oh, just thought I'd see what you were up to in the middle of the day, man. Simon called me. Said he'd sent you home early. You okay?" 

"I'm fine." Jim pushed past his partner, headed for the stairs, but found his arm held tightly. 

"Jim, you're bleeding, man. Let me help you." 

"Let go, Chief. I need to get dressed first." 

"Fine, Jim, whatever. Go get dressed while I make us some coffee." The sudden release a surprise, he watched as Blair stepped to the kitchen, his body tense. Just as he started to speak, the younger man's hand went up. "Go on, Jim. Get dressed. I'll wait." 

"Okay, Chief. I'll be back in a minute." Upstairs he pulled on fresh boxers, jeans, a grey T-shirt, and white socks. Going back down, he found his shoes in the bathroom and put them on, tying the laces automatically, blocking his own thoughts. The whole time his head pounded, his cock ached, sore from trying. 

Back in the kitchen, Blair sat at the table, his mug already filled. He'd pulled back his hair, the tie right at the back of his neck. Double earrings caught the light, teasing the flesh with highlights just at the bottom lobe. Jim fought down the urge to suckle that skin, the metal a breaking point against his tongue. 

"Feeling better, Jim?" 

"Yeah. I'm fine. Really, Chief. Simon shouldn't have called you like that." As he poured his own coffee, he leaned back on the counter, the corner the safest, most secure place. "I just had a headache that's all." 

"Really? What happened to the dials, man?" 

"I think we've met a threshold on that, Chief. After awhile either they don't work anymore or they have to have a break." 

"Yeah? What happened? How'd it feel? Did the pain come back all at once, or did it come in bits and pieces?" Blair stayed seated, his voice a comfort, calm and even. "Come on, Jim. Help me out here. I can't figure out what's going on if you don't tell me." 

"Well, it sort of started off slow. First the arm hurt and then the ribs. Just a little, then all of a sudden, it all hit me." 

"Ouch. That sucks, man. You okay now? Can you dial down?" 

"Not yet, no. Right now the dials are gone." 

"Completely?" 

"Yeah, pretty much. Can't see them at all." 

Pouring more coffee, he moved to the couch while he talked avoiding the full gaze of the man watching him like some specimen, some project going bad. As he sat down, Blair joined him by straddling the armrest. 

"Okay, man, so at least tell me what you were doing when it happened." 

"I was at work, Chief." 

"Jim, why is it so damn hard to get you to tell me this stuff? I only want to help, man." 

"Really? You don't want another chapter for the dissertation?" Jim bit his own tongue, the words gone before he could snatch them back. 

"Oh, man, that's harsh. Shit." Blair walked to the window, his breathing too fast. After several passes through the light, he stopped and turned to Jim. "You've been a real pain in the ass lately, man. You want to tell me what the hell's going on? You want me to move out or what?" 

"Move out?" The statues for words stood stock still and inert, too heavy and real. Finally, he forced his tongue to work again. "Shit, no, Blair. It's nothing like that." 

"Then what the hell is it? You act like you can't stand me anymore." 

Head down, his lids squeezed shut, air eased up through his constricted throat. "I'm having a few problems here, Chief." 

"No, shit, man." The dip of the cushion and the Blair scent beside him alerted him to his partner's move closer. "Jim, talk to me, man. You're scaring me with all this pain you seem to be going through. Did Weston hurt you worse than we thought? What?" 

A branding hand wrapped his wrist, the air a firestorm with the touch. "Physically, I'm okay, Chief. Honest." 

"Well, I guess that's something. So, what, you think you're going crazy or something, because I have to tell you, man, if that's the case, you're like totally off base with that. It's just your senses making you think that. We can fix it, Jim. Let me help you. I found these references in these journals just yesterday, and I'm thinking that if...." Jim's eyes opened and he watched panicked eyes locked with his while his friend's mouth kept working. 

"Blair, settle down. You're rambling." 

"Yeah? Uh, sorry, man." He removed his hand and put it in his lap, turning his knees away from Jim's. 

Taking a deep breath, Jim reached over and took his guide's hand in his own, the palm like a sacred relic. "Chief, it's got nothing to do with the senses. It's you." 

"Me?" The catch in his throat made the word ragged. 

"I'm having trouble getting past a few things I'm finding out about you." Blair's confusion wrinkled his forehead as he watched Jim stroke his hand while he spoke. 

"Like what, man?" He made no attempt to pull away, his heart beating faster, his breathing deeper, body heat increased. Jim found a smile curling his lips, his courage finally waking up to take notice. 

"Remember when I called you a dangerous man before?" While still holding Blair's hand, he caressed the whiskered cheek as he pushed back the escaping wild hairs wisping around his face. 

"Yeah, I remember." Fingertips eased across his forehead, down across his lips, before he whispered, "Jim?" 

"What, Chief?" Jim edged closer taking the time to breathe long and slow breaths as he untied the leather at the back of his partner's neck, the curls springing up in celebration of their release. 

"What's going on, man?" 

"I'm trying to explain why I've been so distracted lately. I'm not good with words, so I thought a demonstration might help." 

Gulping hard, Blair's eyes got rounder, his lips wetted by a nervous tongue. "Jim, why'd you call me a dangerous man before?" 

"Because you're making me do things that could be trouble for both of us, Chief." Cupping the back of his head, running his fingers through the strands, he pulled him closer, his own lips pressing against pure heat. Swallowing deep throated moans came after the rush of coffee flavor as Blair's tongue plunged forward running along the inside of his mouth. Pressure between his legs increased as his cock woke up once again, no longer tender, but eager and pulsing with a steady rhythm. 

A pushing on his chest and a garbled chanting of his name brought him back to an oxygen-starved guide falling back against the couch. "Jesus, Jim. What the hell's going on here? You kissed me." 

"Yeah, and you kissed back, Chief." Smiling like crazy, he leaned forward as Blair slid down to lie flat. Jim climbed up on his knees between widely parted thighs. Looking down into his partner's flushed features, he ran a hand along the side of his jaw down along the chin. "God, you're so beautiful, Blair." 

Still not smiling, but not resisting either, the younger man stared up, the fear stopping Jim's approach. "Chief, please tell me now if you don't want any part of this." 

"I love you, Jim, but I'm not sure this is right." 

"I know." His heart swelling with a swirl of both love and terror, he nodded. "Believe me, Chief, I fought this a hell of a long time." Bending down with a dip, he kissed the lips again lightly. As he started to pull back, arms wrapped around his neck while a leg came up to the small of his back, dragging his hips closer to the smaller man beneath him. Bodies pressed hard together, he rubbed his cheek against Blair's and fought to keep breathing as a tongue licked up and down his neck, eager teeth nibbling his ear lobe. 

"God, Jim, this is so crazy." 

"Yeah, Chief, it is. Dangerous, too." 

"Fuck dangerous, man." 

"I plan to, Chief. Just be patient." 

Jim chuckled deep in his chest as Blair Sandburg proceeded to talk with his hands, to show him just how dangerous an anthropologist could be given the right subject. 

"Jim?" The word mushed against his neck. 

"Yeah, Chief." His hand rubbed up under Blair's shirt, the hairy chest velvet against his palm, each nipple a treasure. 

"I think I just went native, man." He sucked along the hollow of his sentinel's neck, Jim grinding his hips hard into his groin. 

"Thank god, Chief. I hate being in the jungle alone." He bit into the fleshy ear and gulped down the tiny explosions, the whimpers of pleasure as he captured his guide's lips with his own. Breathing as one, sentinel and guide shared the very air, shared their spirits, and inhaled the other's darker soul. 

_The End_


End file.
